shirty...

"I've got a man in England  who buys me clothes.  He sends over a selection of things at the beginning of each season, spring and fall."

He took out a pile of shirts and began throwing them, one by one, before us, shirts of sheer linen and thick silk and fine flannel, which lost their folds as they fell and covered the table in many coloured disarray. While we admired he brought more and the soft rich heap mounted higher - shirts with stripes and scrolls and plaids in coral and apple-green and lavender and faint orange, with monograms of Indian blue. Suddenly, with a strained sound, Daisy bent her head into the shirts and began to cry stormily.

"They're such beautiful shirts," she sobbed, her voice muffled in the thick folds. "It makes me sad because I've never seen such - such beautiful shirts before." (The Great Gatsby, p.98)

Heh. Now obviously I'm having some pretty romantic feelings about button-up shirts right now. I mean, I was already prepped for it by owning one beloved J Crew gingham shirt, alongside a slowly growing collection of silk blouses as the perfect layering devices. And as I dream of spring my heart turns towards the preppy and layered and crisp. Suddenly it feels like every morning I have trouble getting dressed because I lack that perfect chambray button-up. The brittle glamour of Gatsby's parties and post-war ennui seem of a moment with this mid-winter existentialism. This is just to say, do not be surprised if a few more button-ups begin infiltrating the wardrobe this spring!